


Knock, Knock, Knock

by WrecklessImagine



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Kidnapping, Love, PTSD, Rescue, Romance, rommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:11:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 20,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5432642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrecklessImagine/pseuds/WrecklessImagine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the lonely reader puts up an ad in the newspaper for wanting a roommate, what she didn't expect was a chance encounter, and a roaring roller coaster ride, with a mysterious Dr. Spencer Reid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And So It Begins

“Coming!” you shout from across the house.

It had been over a month since you put an ad in the paper looking for a roommate, and even though you’re outside the city, you thought there would be a little more foot traffic than this.

Taking a deep breath, you open the door, and looking back at you is a tall, slender male, no more than 30, with a gentle look on his face.

“Um…hello! Are you Miss…Y/N?” he asks, looking down at the newspaper in his hand.

Smiling lightly, you nod your head.

"Hi! My name is Dr. Spencer Reid. I was wondering if you were still in need of a roommate?”

Seeming to be un-phased by your opposite gender, you respond, “Yes. It's still available. Would you like to come take a look?”

Smiling, Spencer steps inside.

"Well, this is the main living area. Over to the right is my room and the sun room. The sun room doesn’t have any furniture, so feel free to fill it with yours. It would be a nice place for you to have a private guest, perhaps a nice lady, o-or gentleman friend, since you can shut the door to obtain your privacy."

Taking a step over, you motion with your hand, "Over to the left is the kitchen, and the little room beside it holds the fireplace and some more sitting room.”

Starting up the stairs, you continue with your tour, “Down at the ends of either side of the hallway are spare rooms. Each has their own full bathroom, so feel free to take whichever one you like. I don’t watch TV much so I don’t have cable, but I’m more than willing to provide it if you have a TV you wish to hook up.”

"Oh, no, that’s alright,” Spencer said. “Technology is ruining the pleasantries of the past.”

“Couldn’t of said it better myself," you say as you chuckle lightly.

Backtracking towards the double doors, you throw them open into the hallway.

As Spencer stares in with a twinkle in his eye, you continue.

“This is my library. It was a connecting wall between the two rooms, but I burrowed it out to add this addition. If you have books or book cases, feel free to put them here if you don’t want to put them in your room.”

As a stunned Spencer looks quizzically around the room, he says, “This house is incredible...but...the rent is only $500?”

"Well…I mean, you are outside of the city a bit, and there isn't any cable, and only _very_ basic internet, and…well…it’s gotten a bit lonely. It would be nice to no longer wake up to an empty home.”

Cocking his head in curiosity, you sigh lightly at his reaction.

“My family…perished…in a house fire when I was 18. Ever since then, I’ve been a recluse of sorts.”

"I’m sorry," Spencer says.

"It was a long time ago,” you say, hoping he doesn’t continue to ask questions.

As the two of stand looking at each other, Spencer breaks the silence. “So, how do I apply?”

"Honestly? You’re the only person that has come to see the house. I’ll run a background check, but it’s yours if you want it.”

"Oh, ok! Well…” Spencer hands you his application. “Well, I don’t have a record. I’m a homebody as well, lots of reading and coffee.”

Smiling, you take the application from him. “Well, I’ll call you once the background check comes through, and we can talk about the lease and moving in.”

Handing Spencer a copy of the lease, you smile warmly as you continue.

"Here is the lease to look over. If you have any questions or want to make any changes, feel free to call.”

As Spencer smiles at you, he takes the lease from your outstretched hand and says, “Thank you so much, Miss Y/N.”

“Not a problem, Dr. Reid,” you say as you escort him back to the door.

And as Spencer walks out onto the porch, you smile to yourself as you come to the realization that you may no longer be alone anymore. But as you turn your back and shut the door, you find yourself recanting the visit, and remembering how warm his smile made you feel.


	2. Move-In Day

Picking up the phone, you call your new roommate. You were excited for the move-in today, but you realized that there was no food in the house, and your wine cabinet was seriously lacking.

“Hey, roomie!” he answered with a sparkle.

Giggling, you say, “Hey! How’s it coming?”

“We are about to head that way with the moving truck. Will you be there? I know you said you had grocery shopping to do.”

“I haven’t made it out yet, I was taking stock, and realized that I didn’t know what you might want in the house. And if you drink wine, what kinds of wines you prefer.”

As Spencer starts to rattle off some foods and snacks he prefers, you scribble them down on your grocery list.

“…though I don’t drink wine too much, I prefer reds. But not dry, I have no idea why people like dry wines. Makes me feel like I’m drinking cotton.”

Laughing, you say, “Alright, I’m heading to the store. I won’t be here when you arrive, but I will be back before you are done, so I’ll help with what I can.”

Hanging up the phone, you take your list and stroll out to your car. You didn’t even realize how much you were smiling until your cheeks started to burn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Driving into the driveway, you note the moving van is still there. You don’t see Dr. Reid, but you do see a bunch of other people.

Getting out, you pop your trunk to start unloading groceries.

“Need any help?” a peppy blonde inquires.

“Oh, hello. I’m Y/N,” you introduce yourself, holding out your hand.

“Oh, I know. I’m Penelope,” she shakes your hand. “Here, let me help you get these inside.”

As the two of you walk inside and start for the kitchen, you here a big thud.

“Morgan!” you hear a gruff voice call out.

“Damn it, Hotch. This thing is heavy! Why didn’t he just take the damn books off!?”

As your eyes widen, you look back at Penelope who is furiously giggling to herself as she turns to you and points up to the ceiling.

“The dark one is Derek, and the gruff sounding one is Aaron, our boss.”

As it clicks as to who everyone is, you let out a sigh.

“Oooooooooh! Alright, makes sense now.”

As Penelope and you start putting up groceries, a brunette joins you.

“Ooooo, this is a nice one,” she says as she picks up a bottle of wine and opens your cabinet. “We should open one later to celebrate the ending of this insane move.”

Grinning to yourself, she continues. “I’m Emily, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you say.

“Oh, we know,” Emily muses.

Funny...that seemed to be the consensus with everyone.

As the three of you finished up in the kitchen, you thanked them and headed back out to the moving truck. Looking inside, you found a down-dressed, sweaty Dr. Reid, giving orders and making demands.

“Well, there you are,” you sing-song. “Need any help?”

“Hey, Y/N! How long have you been back? Do you need help with the groceries?”

“Too late for that!” Penelope yells behind you. As his face drops, you get up in the truck and rub his back.

“It’s alright,” you grin, “Penelope and Emily helped me when I pulled up.”

“Well, next time we will go together, and you won’t unload a single grocery bag.”

And somehow, you knew he wasn’t joking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With the last cardboard box broken down, you come back inside from setting them on the sidewalk. As Spencer flops on the couch, you close the door and slide down its length until your butt hits the doormat.

“So…I don’t feel like cooking now,” you chuckle. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” Spencer says breathlessly.

“Alright, well…how do you feel about pizza? It’s the only place that delivers out here.”

“Sounds great,” Spencer continues to catch his breath.

Getting up and shuffling over to the couch, you plop down beside him. “What do you like on your pizza, Dr. Reid?”

Raising an eyebrow, he darts his gaze over to you. “We are roomies, you can call me Spencer.”

“Alright, Spencer,” you emphasized, “what do you enjoy on your pizza?”

“Pepperoni and mushroom,” he replies.

“Alright. I’ll get the pizza ordered, you…” you wave your hand over your nose, “…need a shower, sir.”

Laughing, he grunts as he gets up off of the couch, and as you watch him drag himself up the stairs, you pick up the phone beside you and dial the number for pizza.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh, that was so good,” a clean-smelling Spencer yawns. As the both of you sit at the breakfast nook in the kitchen, watching it slowly get darker outside, you realize that you have yet to shower yourself.

“I suppose it’s my turn to clean up, huh?”

As Spencer scrambles to pick up the leftover pizza, he says, “Nope, I got it.”

Throwing your head back and laughing, you say, “No, I meant a shower!”

Laughing as he tries to find the tupperware, he says, “Oh, I don’t think you smell at all.”

“Oh, how gentlemanly of you,” you snark.

As the both of you continue to giggle, you get up and start heading for your room. “I don’t know if you'll be retiring soon, but if you aren’t, I’m usually out here on the couch crocheting or reading.”

“I’ll have to tell Garcia you crochet. She knits, so I’m sure she would love a yarn shopping buddy.”

Cocking your head in confusion, Spencer corrects himself. “Penelope. Her last name is Garcia.”

Realization crossing your face, you turn and make your way for the bathroom.

“Y/N?” Spencer calls out.

“Yes, Spencer?” you respond.

“Thank you,” he coos.

Smiling lightly to yourself, you turn your back to him and walk into the bathroom.

“No, thank _you_ ,” you whisper.


	3. Awkward

It had been 4 months since Spencer had moved in, and it was nice. He was sparse from time to time because of his job, but you probably noticed more because of your _lack_ of a job. You enjoyed waking up to the smell of coffee already brewed and sounds in the house. Spencer didn’t know it, but every time it happened, you would smile and choke back a few tears. It had been a long time since any place you resided hadn’t been so empty, and you hoped that he would stay for a long time to come.

But when you opened your eyes this morning, things were a little different.

There were no sounds, and no coffee. No rattling of the newspaper, or turning of book pages.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you slip your robe on, splash water in your face, and open your bedroom door. Sticking your head out, you look in both directions, furrowing your brow in confusion.

“Spencer?” you call out.

Nothing.

As you make your way for the stairs, you hear a slight creek that makes your hair stand up on the back of your neck. “Spencer?” you call out again.

Nothing.

Slowly making your way up the steps, you unscrew a loose support railing, holding it in your right hand. Making your way to the door of his bedroom, you knock.

And again, nothing.

“Spencer, I’m coming in.”

And as you throw the door open, you raise the support railing above your head and swing your hips back. But instead of a dark, scary intruder, you are met with a yelping Spencer, holding the covers up to his chest and scrambling for his gun.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” you yell, dropping the makeshift weapon and pulling your robe closed.

“Holy shit, “Y/N!” he yells, putting his gun back on the side table and taking a deep breath. “What are you doing!?”

Eyes wide and at a loss for words, you are struck with the realization as to just how handsome your roommate is. Disheveled hair, strong chest, lean arms, long legs…and as your eyes drift from his toes to his eyes, he gives you a devilish grin as he throws the covers back.

“Like what you see?” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows in an outlandish manner. But once he sees you blush and turn your head downwards, he realizes he has hit a nerve.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Shaking your head and keeping your gaze down, you stammer, “N-no it’s alright, y-you didn’t um…uh…”

Raising his eyebrows, he finishes your sentence, “…do anything wrong?”

Whipping your head up, “Exactly!”

But when you whipped your head up, you were met with a standing Spencer, baring all except for a pair of boxers he was adorning...and, try as you might to have averted your gaze, you kept staring at his shoulders.

Those strong, toned shoulders.

You wanted to take a _bite_ out of those shoulders.

Shuddering at the thought and feeling his gaze on you, you start to ramble, “You just…weren’t up and I heard a creak and I thought someone was in the house, so I came up here to see if you were here and I thought maybe someone was in your room and so I threw open the door and I was gonna beat ‘em ‘til they bled until I realized the creak was just you…” you paused for a breath, looking up at Spencer, who was clearly amused at your flustered state, “…rolling around in bed…”

And as you breathlessly trail off, Spencer walks towards you. “I’m impressed. Most women would have called my phone, or run out of the house.”

As your jaw drops, you divert your gaze back to the floor.

“Um…I’ll go put on some coffee,” you squeak.

“And I’ll put some clothes on,” Spencer muses.

_Not with a body like that, you don't._

And as Spencer throws his head back and laughs, he says, “Well, thank you for the compliment. Most women are of the Morgan variety.”

Eyes widening at the realization that you had actually said that out loud, you whip yourself around and head for his door.

“Coffee...right...” you murmur, quickly shuffling out of his room.

“Y/N!” Spencer yells after you.

Stopping at the steps, you slowly turn yourself back around.

“You forgot this,” Spencer croons, holding the banister railing out towards you.

“Oh...sorry,” you chuckle awkwardly as you take it from him...but as you put your hand on the makeshift weapon, he pulls at it, tugging you closer to him.

Slowly looking up at him, he smiles down at you and says, “You’re not the only one with a good-looking roommate.”

Feeling your jaw unhinging, your mouth hanging agape, Spencer chuckles to himself.

“I’ll be down in a second,” he muses, turning his back and closing his door.

And you stood there, glued to your spot, unable to move, and holding your breath.


	4. Surprise

Life was wonderful. You had filled your empty home with a wonderful roommate, who was not only incredibly intelligent, but wonderfully attractive, whom you actually enjoyed spending time around. You two had late night talks and ice cream binges and movie marathons. You had gotten to know his co-workers better because he started bringing you to their functions, making wonderful friends with Penelope, who would go yarn shopping with you to fuel your crocheting addiction. Spencer even started texting you whenever he was heading home, despite a genuine lack of technology on both of your ends.

But something changed, and you knew it had when you missed a phone call.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Y/N. Call me back. It’s urgent.”

You had seen on the news (that you now turned on from time to time whenever they made a public announcement about a case) about a man in the area targeting women with your features, so you were extra careful. Spencer had been gone 3 days now, and you never went outside once it started getting dark, you had stopped ordering in food, and you slept with a knife on your night-side table.

Picking up your phone, you tried calling him back. It was on the brink of getting dark, so when he didn’t answer, you put your phone away and trotted to the house. You wanted to get inside and get the house locked and armed for the evening.

Until you realized the door was cracked.

“Hello, Y/N.”

Frozen in your spot, you realize you aren’t around anything you can grab to defend yourself.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. This isn’t for you, anyway.”

Furrowing your brow, you keep your mouth shut. As your phone starts to ring, the strange man gives you a sly grin.

“Why don’t you get that,” he commands.

Slowly picking up your phone, your voice shakes. “H-hello?”

“Y/N! Thank god. Get in your car and go somewhere. Anywhere. Get out of the city. I will get you some money if you need some. Just get in your car and drive.”

“You know, you really should’ve tried harder,” the mysterious man muses.

“Y/N, where are you?” Spencer’s voice breaks.

“Home,” you squeak.

“And it’s a _lovely_ home,” the man raises his voice.

As tears crest the folds of your eyes, you take a ragged breath. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“Simple. I want Spencer. He has been _very_ detrimental to my plan. Very smart, this Spencer of yours. What is he? Your boyfriend? Your husband? Your lover?”

“He’s my roommate,” you say flatly.

“Oh, what a shame. For you are _such_ a beauty,” the mysterious man gets up and walks towards you.

“Y/N!” Spencer shouts.

As the man holds out his hand for the phone, you slowly give it to him. Grinning slyly, he begins to talk to Spencer. “She really is beautiful. I wonder why you haven’t made her yours yet, with those plump breasts and those full lips…Mmm...I bet they feel just grand.”

“This game you are playing is done,” Spencer states, “and for every scratch and bruise you leave on her body, should you have the gall to do anything at all, will result in your death. Do you understand?”

“I’ve always enjoyed a nice challenge,” he growls.

As the man hangs up the phone and tosses it into the corner, the man leaps at you, pinning you to the door. Screaming, you kick him between his legs and wriggle away, running to the room for your knife.

Slamming the door and throwing open the window, you grab the knife and dive out onto the side of the house, continuing to run into the woods that your house backs up to. You run...and you run...and you don’t look back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Huffing and puffing, you never realized how extensive the woods are back here. You had already jumped the fence that separated your land from the city's land, and as you accrue scraps and scratches, you are suddenly dumped out into an open field...and you didn’t have to be an agent to know that being in an open field whilst being hunted was a bad decision.

But before you could get a running start across the opening, you feel a pinch in your neck, and all goes black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Grunting, you slowly flutter your eyes open. Seeing nothing but a dim light and hearing the trickle of water somewhere, you get up and try to run, only for the shackles around your arms to yank you back. You were chained to a stone wall, and you were going nowhere.

Shuddering, a disembodied voice comes over a most ragged intercom.

“My my, we are feisty, aren’t we?”

Recognizing the voice, you don’t respond. As your mind whirls with the memories and encounters of the past day, or was it 2?…tears spill down your cheeks.

“Now, now, no need to cry, my dear. We are just going to have a bit of fun.”

Spitting at the air, the unsub chuckles, and as you hear the intercom click off, you sink back into the wall, letting the tears continue to fall.


	5. Chapter 5

Pulling up to the house, the team gets out and slowly surveys the scene, and Spencer...without thinking...starts running towards the front door, only Morgan tackles him to the ground.

“Reid!” he yells.

As Spencer wriggles around under him, Morgan picks him up and forces him to meet his gaze. “Do this right. We will find her, and we will get him,” he assures him as he cups his face in his hands, tears beginning to stream down Spencer's cheeks.

Dazed, he goes and sits in the car, knowing that, because of it being his home and you being taken, that he cannot survey the crime scene because of its personal nature.

Calling Garcia, he cuts off her greeting. “What can you tell me? Please, give me something.”

“The phone call gives me nothing. If there was any sort of a struggle, he hung up the phone before we heard it.”

As tears crest the folds of his eyes once again, his mind starts drawing blanks. The only thing swirling around in his head are the bruises. All of the bruises and blood and bodies this man has left in his wake.

And Spencer weeps.

He weeps for your fate. He weeps for your strength.

But, most of all? He weeps at the idea that he couldn’t protect you.

Hearing commotion in the house, Spencer wipes his tears away and looks up as he sees J.J. trotting over to him, taking his hand.

“Come on,” she says. “We have a trail.”

And throwing himself to his feet, Spencer takes off towards the backyard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As your eyes flutter open, you wonder how much time has passed. A day? A week? Maybe this is just a dream?

And, just as if the voice has read your mind, he comes over the intercom again.

“Don’t worry, it’s only been a few hours.”

Sighing and pressing yourself against the wall, a small whimper escapes from your throat. You were trying to be so strong and so courageous, but you felt your resolve slowly slipping away…slowly giving into your desperation to stay alive.

And it was then that you realized why Spencer worked his job.

It was to save people like you…and to catch people like him.

You whip your head around as you hear a groan. The groaning of rusty metal on rusty metal, and as a shadowy figure makes his way towards you, you back yourself into the only corner you can reach.

Your whole body trembling, a man’s face slowly comes into view, and as he creeps closer to your body, he reaches out and touches your cheek. Yanking your face away, he grabs your chin and forces your eyes back towards his.

“How beautiful,” he drips.

Spitting in his face, he cracks the back of his hand across your cheek. Tears spring into action as you try to stand to your feet, but just as you get steady, he grabs you by your neck and lifts you off of the ground.

Choking and heaving for air, he laughs in your face. “Did you really think you were going to be feisty and get away with it?”

As your eyes start to widen and your gaze starts to fade, he drops you back to the ground. And when he comes back into focus, you realize he is unbuckling his belt.

“You all break eventually,” he grins.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Panting and sweating, Spencer runs until the trail runs cold. Dumping him out into a field, he looks around desperately, hoping for any sign of you. Something that will point to where you are.

And then his phone rings.

“Hello?” he says, his voice cracking.

“Are you in a field?”

Shooting his head up, Spencer’s head kicks back into action upon hearing Garcia. “Yes. Why?”

“Because 1 mile to your right through the woods is a cabin. And if she is anywhere near here, that’s the only place for 15 miles.”

Hanging up the phone after giving a mindless “Thanks,” Spencer takes off running in that direction.

“Spencer!” J.J. calls out after him.

“Hotch,” J.J. radios. “Get a car and track Spencer’s GPS. He’s running towards a cabin.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Laying on the floor, heaving from your sobs, all resolution of strength and courage fades away. As your eye swells shut and your neck gets tender, you feel the blood trickle down your back as he raked you, back and forth, along the stone wall. You had managed to knock the air out of him, but in the process he passed out, not being able to get enough oxygen.

And you knew, when he woke up, that you would be dead.

Your lips quivering and your body shivering, you speak into the darkness.

“They say you are a computer wizard, Penelope. They say that technology yields to your existence. And I know there is, at least, some of it around, since he can see me and speak to me whenever he wishes. So, if you can hear me, or see me at all…I hope this finds its way back to you.”

Taking a deep breath, you begin. “My life has been an endless cycle of loss. Loss of my parents. Loss of my independence. Loss of my mind there for a while. All of it, loss. Until Spencer. Until he happened. He changed all of it.”

Tears springing to your eyes, you continue. “That man is the most extraordinary man I have ever met. He is intelligent, well-read, funny, courageous, and kind. But, most of all? He is gentlemanly. And everything about him makes him beautiful.”

Your voice catching, you swallow and continue. “So Penelope, if you can hear this. If you can see this, and if you are recording it. Make sure Spencer sees it…because I have something to say to him.”

And, taking a ragged breath, you say, “I love you, Spencer Reid.”

And, like clockwork, as you finish your sentence…the lifeless body in front of you groans.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Spencer gets to the cabin, he draws his weapon. Sneaking around the back, he sees that the cellar doors are thrown open, so he clicks on his flashlight and descends down the dark stairs.

“Y/N?” he calls out.

Silence.

“This is Agent Reid, FBI. Come out with your hands up.”

Hearing nothing, Spencer continues down a narrow corridor, but about halfway down the hallway, Spencer stops.

“Hello?” he calls out.

And just as he does, he hears a gasp for breath.

“Y/N!” he yells, running the rest of the way down the hallway. Realizing there’s a door, Spencer tries to open it, only to find it locked. He shoots the knob, throws open the door, and takes aim with his weapon.

And there, pinned to the ground with his body towering over yours, is the unsub.

“Get off of her,” Spencer growls.

“FBI, this is Agent Hotchner. Get off of the girl and put your hands up.”

As Hotch and Morgan appear behind Reid, the unsub grins and starts to chuckle.

“She’s a feisty one, Agent Reid. You’re lucky...”

Furrowing his brow, the unsub finishes his thought. “...you’re lucky she loves you. It’ll be fun breaking her. You’ll have to let me know how that goes.”

And as Spencer’s expression drops, the unsub gets off of your body and raises his hands in the air.

Holstering his weapon and dashing over to you, he sees your bruises and lifts your head up.

“Y/N?” he whispers. “Y/N, can you hear me?”

Wrapping his arm around your waist, he picks up your unconscious body as blood dripping from a gash in your back, and hustles you back down the hallway as Morgan radios for an ambulance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Feeling a burning sensation in your throat, you throw your eyes open and try to sit up. A team of nurses come over, holding you down and trying to talk to you.

“You’re in a hospital,” one says.

“You’re alright,” another soothes.

“Y/N!” Spencer yells, and at his voice you stop.

Running his fingers through your hair, tears start pouring from your eyes. You try to reach for his face, but since you don’t have your glasses on, you cant see him well.

As Spencer starts to understand, he dips his head down, putting his face in your hand.

Nodding to the nurses, they remove the breathing apparatus leading into your lungs. Choking it out, heaving sobs come from your chest as Spencer leans his forehead into yours.

“Oh, Y/N,” Spencer sighs.

As he takes your hand, he wipes your tears away and leans into your ear.

“Are you alright enough to give a statement?” Spencer asks.

Slowly nodding your head, you see Hotch appear by your side.

Moving your head slowly in his direction, Hotch’s eyes brim with tears as he puts his hand gently on your forehead.

“Start from the beginning,” he chokes out.


	6. Redemption

As you stammer out your encounter, your hiccups and sobs become unbearable for Spencer. He puts his forehead to yours and holds up his hand.

“We can do this later,” he says, never looking at Hotch.

As Hotch nods his head, he leaves you two in the room, with everyone else standing in the doorway, stretching to get a view of you.

“Spencer…I can do this,” you whisper, tears flooding the crevices of your neck. “If I do it now, then it’s over and I can get on.”

“Y/N…you’re so shaken up…please, just take some time,” Spencer pleads.

“No!” you shout as you slam your fist against the hospital bed railing. “Get Hotch back in here.”

Jumping at your reaction, Spencer goes and gets Hotch. Finishing your recount to him, Hotch leaves, eyes filled with tears.

“She’s strong,” he says to everyone. “She’s a hell of a woman.” And as he puts his hands on his hips, he takes deep breaths as he paces the waiting room. As the team furrows their brows at his reaction to the situation, Spencer steps in and puts his hand on Hotch’s shoulder.

“I know she’s been helping you with your father-in-law. I know about the conversations…about how she has gotten him to pit his anger at someone else other than you.”

And as the team listens to their conversation, they realize just how important you’ve become to this team. How you’ve supported them in their time in need; how you’ve opened your home, and your heart, to them when they needed it most; how you have intervened when their lives were most chaotic and, somehow, managed to make things better.

But most of all, they’ve realized how they can trust you, for no one on the team, not even Spencer, knew the impact of all you had been doing.

None of them knew that, in the 4 short months you have been around, that you have managed to be their oracle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sighing in your hospital bed, you reach for your morphine button. Your head felt as if it was splitting in two, and you desperately needed a shower. Your catheter, however, was proving to make that difficult.

Buzzing the nurses station, everyone watches as a nurse walks in, shutting the door behind her. After the longest 5 minutes of their lives, the nurse walks back out, leaving the door ajar.

“She says it’s ok to come in, if you’d like,” the nurse says.

The team opens the door and slowly files in. You sit up in your bed, wincing, and Spencer runs to your side to help you the rest of the way.

“So,” Morgan muses, “I hear you haven’t just been helping me with my nightmares.” Glancing in his direction with your good eye, you smirk at him as he chuckles. Not saying a word, everyone starts to chime in with their respective giggles…which somehow ends up morphing into guffaws and belly laughter.

After everyone wipes the tears away from their eyes, the reality of the situation weighs back down onto their minds. You have just been rescued after being cornered, captured, and tortured.

“What do you need?” Garcia pleads.

“I need…” you croak, your face flushing.

“Anything,” J.J. jumps in.

“I need…a shower,” you whisper.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the men exit the room, the women help you out of the bed and into the bathroom. Tears streaming down your face, you know that them helping you shower is the only way that you will get clean. But that doesn’t stop you from trying to cover up your body.

“We don’t care about how you look,” Garcia chuckles in exacerbation.

“I know…” you trail off.

“Something tells me there’s a story behind that tone of voice,” J.J. smirks.

“Oooooooo, spill!” Garcia squeaks.

As they turn on the water, waiting until it reaches lukewarm, they prod you with their curious eyes. Good thing they weren’t cats.

“How…” you pause and clear your throat.

“How…odd…is it, if someone were to…say…have a crush on their roommate?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the boys sat in the waiting room, Spencer jumps up, wanting for something to do.

“Her favorite milkshake is Y/F/MS, I’m going to go get her one,” Spencer rattles off.

“No, you’re not,” Morgan says, yanking him back down into the chair. “You are going to talk.”

“A-about what?” Spencer stammers.

“About how long you’ve had a crush on Y/N,” Hotch says.

“What!?” Spencer squeals.

Rossi laughs, unable to contain his entertainment. “Come on, Reid, we see the way she looks at you as well. It’s not like this is one-sided.”

Furrowing his brow, Spencer looks up. “It’s not?”

Shaking his head, Rossi says, “And this is supposed to be our genius?”

Running his hand thru his hair, Spencer sees the doctor come around the corner. Before the doctor can get to your room, Spencer stops him in the hallway.

“I believe she’s taking a shower,” Spencer says.

“Oh, good! Is anyone helping her?” the doctor asks.

“The girls are in there helping,” Hotch says, coming up behind Spencer.

“How long will she be admitted?” Spencer inquires. “I’m sure she would enjoy getting back to her own bed.”

“Well she is definitely staying until morning, but if we can get her to expel her bowels to make sure there isn’t anymore minor internal bleeding of any kind still happening, then she can go home as early as tomorrow afternoon.”

“Alright, good,” Spencer says, nodding his head.

“The boyfriend, I presume?” the doctor looks over to Morgan.

“The roommate,” Morgan emphasizes.

“Ah,” the doctor muses.

As the door opens, Garcia sticks her head out and smile. “She’s all dried off and in more comfortable clothes, you gentleman can come back on in.”

And as Spencer jumps at the opportunity to get back into the room, Rossi comes up and stands beside the doctor as everyone else walks in.

“Don’t worry,” the doctor chimes in with a smile, “It won’t be too much longer. After all, my wife and I started out as roommates.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fluttering your eyes open, you see the stream of light coming thru the hospital window. Shifting, you try to fling your legs over the side of the bed, only to be met with a searing pain that invokes a strong yelp.

Spencer jolting up from the corner, he rushes to your side, helping you to steady yourself on the side of the bed.

Doubled over, your breathing is labored from the pain. What the hell?

Spencer reaches behind you to press the nurses’ button. After jamming it into the side of the bed, he finds the morphine button and presses it until the green light dissipates.

Tears welling in your eyes, you finally catch your breath enough to ask, “Why am I in so much pain?”

As the nurses come in and help you to sit up, they lift up your shirt to reveal a painted canvass of bruises and raised ligature marks that you didn’t even know were there.

As Spencer’s breath hitches in his throat from the sight of the bruising, tears start streaming down your face.

“Just open the damn window,” you seethe.

Looking down at you in desperation, Spencer goes over and pulls back the window curtains, letting the light of the morning sun stream thru into the plain, dark, dank hospital room.

As Spencer nods at the nurse, she leaves and shuts the door behind her.

“Let me help you get back down,” he soothes.

Smacking his hand away, you tumble onto your back, invoking another round of searing pain for which you have to bite your tongue in order to hold back your screams.

Not knowing what has happened, Spencer’s eyes start to glisten. “Just let me help you,” he whispers.

“No,” you bite.

“Well, why not?” Spencer’s voice gets a little louder.

“Because you’re just a roommate.”

Physically aching at your words, Spencer holds his breath. Hearing him take a deep breath, he sighs and leaves the room, hoping that some time alone will allow you the space you need to cope with your current circumstance.

Attempting to stand again, you are finally able to stagger to the bathroom. Clicking the light on, you get yourself down onto the toilet, but realize that you are having trouble wiping yourself.

Are you fucking kidding me?

But trying as you might, you cannot find a position that will allow you to reach yourself without the pain that takes your breath away.

Sitting on the toilet sobbing, you catch your reflection in the silver handicap bar to your left. Your swollen eye, your black and blue neck, your stitched up cheekbone…all of the marks of a horrendous evening that you wanted to forget. And yet the only person you wanted to forget it with you had just hurt.

Insulted.

Angered.

Sighing, you pull the emergency string beside your toilet, and in a few seconds, the nurse from before rushes in.

“Are you alright, Miss Y/N?” she presses.

“Could you…do me a favor?”

Walking over to the toilet paper, she starts to wind some over her hand.

“No, no, no,” you say, putting your hand up. “I mean, yes I need help, but I need something before I need help.”

As the nurse stares at you with confusion, you say, “Agent Reid is out there somewhere. Can you find him and tell him to come…sit…by the bathroom door? There’s something I need to say, and something I need to admit.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a few minutes of practically drip-drying on the toilet, you hear the shuffle of feet, followed by the shutting of a door. “Y/N?”

Smiling at his voice, you say, “Come on, Spencer, it’s ok.”

As his footsteps get closer to the door, he stops.

“Y/N, I-”

“No,” you say, cutting him off. “Just listen.”

When you are met with silence, you continue. “I wanted the first time you saw my body to be one of approval.”

Silence.

“I wanted the first time you ever saw any part of my skin that was supposed to be covered in clothes to be the first time I told you that I was taken by you. Enraptured by you. Entranced by you.”

Hearing him sniffle, you keep going, “But that’s not the case. That nurse pulled my shirt up to inspect my back, and instead of it being met with kisses and adulation, it was met with gasps and horror. And it made me angry…and I had no right to take it out on you.”

“Y/N, ple-” Spencer tries to cut you off.

“No, Spencer, please…just listen.”

Hearing him huff, you continue, “You are a mystery, wrapped in an enigma, Spencer Reid. Your smile is mesmerizing, your physique is addictive, and your laughter is a perfectly written aria to the opera that is your existence in my life. You came in like a whirlwind, looking for a place to stay, and instead you ended up filling a part of my life that has been absent for over a decade.”

Hearing his soft sobs, you continue thru your own hitches in your voice. “You made me want to be better. You made me want to step out into the world. You made me want to make friends, to get out into society…to help others in a way that I wished I had been helped when I felt desperate all those years ago. And now, here I sit, on a toilet in a hospital not even able to wipe my own ass, and the only thing that I can think about is how I hurt you with my words.”

Met with silence, you lower your voice. “I am so sorry for the things I said to you earlier. They were completely uncalled for, especially from a woman that loves you.”

And as your eyes widen at your last statement, you hold your breath and slap your hand over your mouth, hoping and praying that he didn’t hear that last part. Hoping and praying that your voice was soft enough that he would have to ask you to repeat yourself.

And finally, after what seemed like ages of silence, Spencer speaks.

“So is the woman that I love asking for my forgiveness, or asking me to wipe her ass?”


	7. Going Home

As Spencer helps you get back in bed, you settle down as he hands you a blanket.

“Mind scooting over a bit?”

Cocking your eyebrow, you shift to your right. Spencer climbs himself into the cramped hospital bed, holding you close and throwing the blanket over you both. He felt so warm, and you nuzzled your body close into him.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Feeling him smile against your head, he nuzzles his cheek into your hair, breathing in you scent. Neither of you even realize the nurse has come into the room.

“Well hello,” she says.

Both of you jumping in surprise, she laughs and sets down a folder of papers. “I just need your signatures, and you are ready to get out of here.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, tears crest the folds of your eyes. You wanted nothing more than to be home, in your own bed, with your own pillows, and your own food, with your own Spencer.

Spencer. Your Spencer.

As he hops up to sign the signatures needed, Morgan comes in wheeling a wheelchair. Beaming up at you both, he shakes his head as he stops in the doorway.

“Man, oh man. I need a roommate,” he jokes.

Spencer pushes his arm, shooting him a look while you chuckle to yourself. Laughing was still painful, but you could muster a nice giggle without much reverberation in your rib-cage.

As the nurses help you into the wheelchair, Spencer gets behind you and starts pushing.

“Lets go home,” he bends down and says in your ear.

Tilting your head towards him, you kiss his cheek. “And maybe take a nice warm bath.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pulling up into your driveway, your breathing starts to speed up. You never thought about the effect coming home might have. You never expected the fear that would rise to your throat upon trying to enter the one place you felt safe.

The one place that had been violated.

As Spencer stands in the doorway with you, he squeezes your hand as Morgan stands behind you both. “It’s ok, Y/N,” Spencer says. “He is gone. Locked up. He’s never coming back.”

“I made sure of that,” Morgan spat.

Taking in a deep breath, you let it out as your shaky hand reaches for the door. Hearing Morgan rustle for something in his pocket, you throw the door open to darkness. And as the light clicks on, blinding you for a split second as your eyes try to adjust, you throw your arm over your eyes as you hear people scream.

“Welcome hooooooome!”

Screaming in fear, you crouch down, furiously shaking, tears involuntarily streaming down your face. As everyone starts to shuffle towards you, Spencer bends down to wrap his arms around you.

“It’s ok,” he coos, “It’s just the team wishing us a nice welcome home. He isn’t here, Y/N.”

And as he rocks with you in his arms on the floor, he continues repeating, “He isn’t here.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With everyone apologizing, Spencer picks you up and moves you to the couch. Feeling ashamed and embarrassed and angry with yourself, you push yourself off of his lap and harrumph in frustration.

“I’m so sorry, everyone,” you say sheepishly, feeling your cheeks burn.

“No, no, no, don’t you dare be sorry,” Garcia comes and puts a hand on your shoulder. “That was a really stupid idea, I don’t know why I thought-”

You slowly hold up your hand to Garcia, willing her to stop. You take her hand and you look her in her eyes and you say, “You are an incredible friend. One of the only friends I have ever had in my entire existence. This was so generous of you to put together. What I didn’t account for was the fear that I would still have over my own home. Being…invaded the way that it was. The way that I was…”

Trailing off, you feel Spencer’s hand lean over and massage your shoulders.

“It’ll take time,” Rossi pipes up, “But, eventually, you will start to feel safe again.”

“And Y/N,” Hotch adds, “if you need to…talk to someone…then talk to us. And if you need someone…more professional…don’t hesitate to ask, or be embarrassed. Your mind and your emotional stability are important to us.”

And as Spencer takes his finger and lifts your gaze to his, he says, “To all of us.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You laid down in bed as Spencer was shuffling everyone out the door. You had heard it close, but Spencer didn’t come back into your room.

Sighing, you assume that he probably needs his space. After all, you know he feels at least partially responsible for not keeping you safe, even though he shouldn’t feel that way.

Then, from out of nowhere, you hear a gush of water begin to run. Being half asleep already, you aren’t sure where it’s coming from, so you slowly start to swing your legs off of the bed.

But you get stuck.

Reaching and straining, biting your lip in pain as you try to get yourself propped up on the bed, you just can’t. And your weight takes you back down.

As tears rise in your eyes, you bang on the bed with your fists, feeling absolutely helpless. And just as you were about to start sobbing on your comforter, you feel a pair of strong arms around you, helping you rise up.

As Spencer sits you up, he leans his forehead onto yours, wiping his tears away with his thumb. Your breath hitching in your throat, you try to speak, but nothing comes out. Just whimpers and light sobs.

Spencer, desperate to make you feel better, presses his lips firmly against yours, willing your sadness to dissipate. You melt into his kiss, lobbing your weakening body closer to his. As he wraps one arm around your waist, he draws the other one to the back of your neck as his tongue begs to be in between your lips.

Finally, coming up for air, Spencer picks you up and carries you into the bathroom, where you are met with a steaming tub full of sudsy bubbles that smell of roses.

Gasping, you lean your head up to meet Spencer’s gaze, and as he looks down at you with loving and protective eyes, he kisses the top of your head.

“You said you wanted a nice, warm bath,” he grins.


	8. Nightmares and Boundaries

The next few weeks were long.

And arduous.

Your stitches itched from healing, your thumbs were sore from the breaking, your bruises got more tender before they got better, and your appetite was pretty much nonexistent because of the nightmares. You couldn’t get his face out of your head, and every time you woke up you just laid in bed, helpless. Spencer was doing so much, cooking and cleaning and helping you up and down and in and out, not to mention he was getting good at the not-so-note-worthy things, such as wiping you down without looking after toilet visits and washing your body in a bath without needing to see what he was doing. He was as respectful as possible without commenting on anything that he did see, because he knew it would embarrass you and another fight would drum up again.

But finally, there was a break in the insanity of your daily lives.

One night you woke up from a particularly startling nightmare, and as your eyes flew open and you tried to catch your breath, you sat straight up in bed.

On. Your. Own.

Gawking at your own feat, you slowly scoot your legs over to the side of the bed and attempt to get up. Standing to your feet, you wobble over to the bathroom and take a look in the mirror. Bruises mostly faded, stitches dissolved, yellowish skin retrieving color, your eyes misted over.

You finally had your independence back.

And maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t have to tell Spencer about the crippling nightmares.

After all, he deserved some relief as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting in the doctor’s office, Spencer at your side, he begins to take a look at your hands. The last time you were here, he took off your cast and put you in braces, citing that they needed a bit more healing time before he was comfortable with you rehabilitating them. As the doctor pressed and inspected, you winced every now and then, growing frustrated because they still hurt.

As Spencer looks on anxiously, the doctor says, “On a scale of 1-10, how much is the pain when I press in these areas?”

Sighing, you say, “Anywhere from a 3 to a 5, but nothing tear-worthy. It’s mostly how bad the pinch is before it dissipates into nothing.”

As the doctor nods and continues inspecting, you wish he would just say it. You wish he would just say, “You’ll be crippled forever and this poor man over here will be destined to forever change your diaper like the big child you are.”

But instead, he looked from you to Spencer, and and he says, “Your everyday tasks are going to be very hard at first, so don’t get disappointed. If you urge yourself to try to continue as normal, your thumbs will strengthen again on their own, and no physical therapy will be necessary.”

Concerned you hadn’t heard him right, you look over to Spencer, who is beaming at you with tears cresting the corners of his eyes. You know he has to be as relieved as you. After all, wiping poop from a grown woman’s body after a while has to get old and tedious.

Slowly turning back towards the doctor, you throw your arms around him.

“Thank you,” you whisper to him.

And as the doctor chuckles, he wraps his arms around you and rubs your back. “You are so very welcome,” he replies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were ready to get back to the house. There were so many things you wanted to do: open the pickle jar, start a new crochet project, cook dinner for them both tonight. You were practically clawing your way out of the car when you pulled up the driveway, and as Spencer laughs at you, you bound up the driveway, throw open the door, and throw your arms out to your sides.

“I’m freeeeeeee!” you scream, twirling around in the middle of the living room.

Spencer comes in behind you, crossing his arms and leaning onto the door frame, his smile beaming from ear to ear.

Looking over at him, you put your arms down and furrow your brow. “What?”

Pushing himself off of the frame, he walks slowly towards you, wrapping his arm around your waist and meeting your gaze ever so slowly. “It’s been weeks since I’ve seen you truly smile. And I’ve missed it.”

Sighing, you dip your forehead against his chin, where you feel a light, yet warming, kiss. “I know this wasn’t easy for you…seeing parts of me and doing things to me that…that you never…”

As your eyes burned with tears of embarrassment, you realized that you were still ashamed of some of the things he had to do. You had wanted your body to be a playground to him…and cavernous exploration of mysteries and wonders. But instead, it had turned in to a blobbing sack of skin that he had had to haul around and take care of for the past 9 weeks.

Tears streaming down your face, he takes his thumb and wipes them away. “Please don’t cry,” he pleads. “Please, this is such a happy occasion. Please don’t take that smile away from me.”

Ripping yourself away from him, you walk over to the corner and stare out the window. You were so angry at yourself. Angry for not being strong enough, or fast enough, or smart enough to get away from that psychopath. You blamed him for everything he had taken: your safety, your sleep, your mystery…

Trailing off into thought, Spencer slowly walks over and puts his hand on your shoulder.

Jumping at the sudden contact, you whirl around and look at him with wide eyes before your body settles down. As Spencer looks at you, a worried expression filling the crevices of his face, he takes your hand and starts to rub the top of it with his palm.

“I-” he stops.

Squeezing his hand, you urge him to continue. You know exactly what he is going to say, but you needed him to say it. You needed to know, that out of everything that had changed, he could still freely talk to you.

“I think that maybe…”

He pulls you close and kisses the top of your head, and as you wrap your arms around his body, you feel his warm tears mat down the hair on your head.

“I think we should find you someone to talk to,” he whispers.

And you shudder. Because you know he is right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You both take to the internet. It wasn’t often that you both used it, but in this case some of the best professionals in the area advertised themselves this way now.

Flipping thru names and numbers and reading reviews, the two of you finally settle on a number to call.

As Spencer picks up the phone, you put your hand on his and slowly take it from him.

“It’s about high time I took care of myself,” you look at Spencer, a weary expression on your face.

As he slowly hands you the phone, you look at the number to make sure you dial it right. After a couple of rings, a perky receptionist picks up.

“Corner to Corner, this is Dianna speaking, how may I assist you?”

“Uh…yes. My name is Y/F/N Y/L/N, and I was looking to book an appointment with,” you glance at the screen to make sure you have the right name, “Miss Emma Winehart.”

“Oh yes, let me check her schedule.”

As you hear clicking in the background, you watch Spencer as he shuffles upstairs into his bedroom. You assume that he is going to bed. After all, the darkness around his eyes gets much darker when he is tired, and the darkness was all but swallowing them.

“Yes, I have a consultation appointment for tomorrow at 1:30. Now, if you want to do the consultation and your first appointment in the same day, you will need a 2 hour appointment, which won’t be scheduled until next week.”

Weighing your options, you decide that some much needed time away from here would be very useful, so you speak up.

“The 2 hour appointment next week would be just fine.”

“Alright,” you hear the receptionist draw out. “Let me get some insurance numbers and basic information from you, ok?”

And as she starts to rattles off questions and request information, you begin to have a sense of relaxation, letting you know that, above all of your fears throughout this entire process, that this is the right decision.

Whether you enjoy it or not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Setting the phone down, you look around for Spencer. You write your appointment date and time on a piece of paper and stick it on the fridge, and slowly meander up the stairs towards Spencer’s room. Finding the door shut, you press your ear up against it.

Hearing nothing, you slowly reach out and turn the knob, as softly as you can, in hopes that if he is asleep, that you do not wake him.

When the door loosens up with a thud, you swing it open, only to reveal darkness. Feeling that all too familiar hitch in your throat, you stick your hand in to switch on the light. And there is Spencer, body flopped down onto the bed, over the covers, still in his clothes, lightly snoring his way into a peaceful sleep.

Chuckling low to yourself, you walk over and start to take his shoes off. You remove his socks, mismatched as they were, and you lay them over his shoes in the corner. You slowly flip him over, his body never moving, and undo his vest. Slipping it off of his frame, you pick up his torso so that you can slip his slightly baggy button-up shirt over his head. Furrowing your brow, you look towards his khakis.

Weighing your options, you decide that they are going to be too restrictive. After all, he did wear his pants a bit tight anyway, so you unbuckle the belt and undo the zipper.

But before you could completely slide his pants off, he shifts and opens one eye.

“Well, hello there, little miss feisty.”

Feeling your cheeks burn, you whip your head up. “No no! I was just…trying to make you more comfortable and make sure your clothes didn’t wrinkle. I know you have to be exhausted from taking care of me and doing asinine things like tucking me in and feeding me and cooking for me and you need your rest, and it’s going to be alright now because I have an appointment to help with my nightmares and you don’t have to take care of me like a child anymore and-”

Spencer holds his hand up to stop your rambling. “Nightmares?”

As your jaw drops to the floor, you take your hands off of his pants, half dangling off of his body, and dash for the door. But you have always underestimated your Spencer, and before you can get to the door, he grabs your wrist and slams the door shut.

“Don’t shut me out. After all that has happened…after all we have been through. Don’t do this now.”

Feeling your body start to shake, you look down at your feet, shuffling from foot to foot.

“How long have they been happening?” Spencer asks.

“Um…” you try to delay your answer, knowing that it’s going to kill him to know.

But Spencer knows you too well, and as his voice starts to shake, he bends down to catch your gaze. “This whole time, Y/N?”

As you slowly nod your head, he pulls you in close to his practically naked body.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he begs.

“Because you were already doing so much, and you needed all the rest you could muster. I was alright, I swear.”

Pulling you back, he leans forwards and looks straight into your eyes. “I would have, and will continue to do, anything that I can, and that I need to, for you. You are…” he trails off.

And then suddenly, without notice, you crash your lips into his. No warning, no preparation, no signal. Just desperate need.

You feel Spencer slip am arm around your waist, tugging you off of your feet, while the other makes it way to the back of your neck, supporting it thru the ferocity he adds to your lips. Feeling your bodies meld together, you wrap your legs around his waist as you feel him turn you towards the bed.

Slowly lowering you down onto the bed, Spencer breaks hold and looks you in your eyes.

“You are my Y/N,” he says, tracing the outline of your jaw with his finger, “…and I love you.”

Your body finally gives way. It gives way to all the fears, and feelings, and pent-up emotions it has been harboring for weeks, and as you lean up again, pressing your lips against Spencer’s, you use your feet to slide his boxers down to the floor.

With Spencer’s breath growing ragged, he slips his hand under your shirt, fiddling with the button of your pants.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Oh, Spencer,” you sigh, realizing that, even in this heated moment of passion, your well-being is still important.

And as you grab his face and slowly bring it closer to yours, you kiss the top of his forehead and smile.

“Make me yours,” you whisper.


	9. Confession

You were officially one month into your therapy. You liked the woman that you were talking to, she hadn’t been so concerned with giving you advice more than she was allowing you to slowly start talking about it…coming to terms, in your own time, with what went on and the things that you endured.

And Spencer had been so supportive throughout the entire thing. He was always there at the end of your sessions, ready to take you to get a snack or some food, and you always felt safe with him.

“Hungry?” Spencer asks as you walk out of the office, eyes puffy and nose stopped up.

You look up at him with red eyes, and as his expression lowers, he pulls you in close to his body. You were glad that he had never asked you about what happened that evening. About what traversed when he wasn’t there. The pure emotion from it all made you want to vomit.

But you knew that was the next step.

You knew that if you wanted to continue this with him, that you would have to let him in.

Sniffling, you say, “I thought maybe we could just go home. Or I could go home. Or-”

As Spencer picks up his bag and slings it over his body, he picks up his cell phone and dials Hotch.

“Hey, Hotch. Yeah, this one was rough. I’ll take the paperwork home with me. See you tomorrow.”

As he hangs up the phone, he turns to you, watching your brow furrow in confusion.

“Let’s go home,” he lowers his voice, slipping his arm around your waist and walking you slowly out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You flop down on your bed as soon as you get home. You feel Spencer drape a light blanket over you and turn your fan on.

“Get some rest,” he whispers into your ear, kissing it lightly and cutting off your bedside table lamp.

And as you slowly drift off into the darkness, you grip the blanket tight, knowing what is waiting for you on the other side…

Your skin tingles as the branches smack your arms. Your breathing picks up as your adrenaline continues to pump. But you can hear him. You can hear him behind you, picking up his pace…barreling towards your frantically running body like a mouse running from its predator.

“I see you!” you hear him call out.

Scurrying left and right, jumping over puddles and dodging huge tree trunks, your ankle gets stuck in a ditch, tripping you over onto your face. The knife gets dislodged from your hand, and as you scramble to try and find it, you bury yourself underneath the forest floor shrubbery.

Holding your breath, you watch as his footsteps slowly walk up beside you. Staring at the heel of his boot, you will your body not to breathe…not to shake…not to make a sound.

Hearing his huffing in exasperation, he cries out, “I will find you, beautiful! I will find you…”

Listening to him trot off into the distance, you wait for what seems like hours before wiggling yourself free from the brush and dashing towards the field.

Little did you know he was watching from a tree.

Jolting awake, you feel Spencer’s hands already on your shoulders.

“Y/N!” he yells, continuing to shake your shoulders. “Y/N! Wake up!”

Grabbing both of his arms with your hands, you try to throw him off. “No! For the love of god, just leave me alone!”

Throwing Spencer off of you, you dash for the knife in your opposite side-table drawer, but before you can get there Spencer throws his body onto yours, knocking you into the corner.

He grabs your face, pointing your gaze to his. “Y/N! It’s alright, it’s me. Spencer. See?”

Taking your hands, he puts them on his face, and as everything finally comes into focus, you burst into tears, your knees giving way underneath you.

“Oh, my god…” you sob into Spencer’s chest, who caught you halfway down. “Oh, my god.”

And as you continue to sob into his chest, he runs his fingers through your hair, crying along with you as he whispers, “You’re safe, Y/N. You’re safe.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Curling up with a blanket on the couch, Spencer sits beside you and hands you a cup of hot apple cider. “Here,” he says, holding it out for you, “I even made it with some cardamom pods for a little kick.”

Smiling weakly at him, you take the cup with your still-shaking hand. You knew that this was it. This was the moment. The final test as to whether or not you would let Spencer in.

And oddly enough, you weren’t worried about yourself.

You were worried about him.

Worried that he would blame himself. That he would be angry at himself for not being there to protect you…to shield you from the insanity that are the people he runs down for a living. And you knew that you would have to console him, just like he was consoling you.

And your heart ached.

Because you wanted to talk to him. You were ready to talk to him.

And you knew it would kill him.

Taking a shaky breath, Spencer scoots closer to you, wrapping his free hand around your waist and pulling you in close. “You don’t have to tell me, you know,” he coos.

“I know,” you whisper. “But…”

As he turns and looks at you, you shift your head to meet his gaze. “But…I want to. I mean, I need to. To let you in. You know, like you did for me and your Dilaudid use. I know your pit falls…the deepest ones. And this is my deep one, and you don’t know it yet. That isn’t fair.”

As his expression turns from one of worry to one of anguish, you lean your forehead into his cheek, “But I know that when I tell you…y-you…you will blame yourself. You will…” you pause, looking for the right words.

“I will blame myself,” he finishes.

Nodding your head lightly, you hear Spencer sigh.

“Y/N,” he says, bowing his head to look at his cup of cider, “I already do.”

And as the fresh tears begin to fall, you take a deep breath. “When I opened the door, he was standing next to the couch…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spencer sucked in a breath, signaling that he needed a break. As he got up from the couch, you just stared at your cider, realizing you hadn’t even touched it. Taking an absent-minded sip, he had been filling in his point-of-view of the story as you had been dictating yours. And now you were in the cabin, and he was growing angry.

It was going to be a long night.

Taking another sip of your cider, Spencer finds his way back to the couch, sitting a little farther away than he was before. You didn’t mind, you knew the worst was coming, and that there would be moments where you wouldn’t want to be touched.

Not looking up from your cider, when Spencer says nothing, you continue. “When I came to in the cabin, there was nothing. Just…darkness and dampness and chains.”

Seeing Spencer look at his cider, you continue, “rusty chains that had me pinned to a wall. And his v-voice,” your breath hitches, “it came over an intercom. I was cold and exhausted, and he came over and made me look at him and I…I spat in his face.”

Spencer whips his head up, his gaze searching for yours. “You what?”

Chuckling lightly, you repeat yourself. “I spat at him.”

Seeing a light smile cross Spencer’s face, he grabs your hand and squeezes, “’Atta girl.”

“But it was short-lived,” you continue, “because that was the first time he hit me.”

Spencer’s hand clamped down harder onto yours, and you tried not to yelp, knowing that the pain wasn’t something he meant…rather, it was an automatic reaction to listening to someone else hurt you.

Taking a deep breath, you move on. “He lifted me by my neck,” you choke up, wrapping your hand around your neck, “and I couldn’t breathe. It was like I was…I was watching my life fade from me. And then he dropped me and st-start-” you stumble over the words. Seeing Spencer’s jaw tremble, he puts his cup down and leaps towards you.

Holding you close, you sob into his chest. “He tried. He tried so hard, but I wouldn’t let him. I knew the moment he was unbuckling his pants that he would try. And he almost succeeded. I…felt him on me,” you spat out with disgust, “but I was able to bring my knee up to his groin, knocking him backwards, gasping for breath…”

As you trail off, Spencer buries his face in your hair. “Oh, thank god,” he mutters as he starts to silently sob, feeling his chest shudder beneath your cheek. “Oh, thank god he didn’t get to you.”

Realizing what has happened, you lean up and wrap your arms around Spencer.

“I thought you knew he didn’t...”

As Spencer shakes his head, you kiss him repeatedly on his face. “Spencer, I am so sorry. I thought the doctor told you. I thought you all knew I wasn’t raped.”

And as you two sob together, yours from sadness and his from relief, Spencer releases all of the emotion he had been holding back all of these months. All of this time he thought you had been raped…defiled by another man that he couldn’t save you from. And now, sitting on the very couch that monster was leaning against not 6 weeks ago, you free Spencer from the emotional hold this misinformation had had on him.

About an hour passed before you and Spencer composed yourselves. Snot dripping down your faces, you get up to grab some tissues. As you sit back down and clean yourself up, you progress with your account. “That’s when I got desperate. He passed out in front of me, and I knew that when he woke up I would be dead…so I…I turned to the camera up in the corner and I started talking,” you admit. “I started talking to Penelope, in hopes that something was being recorded or that she had hacked into the system or something.

“I know,” Spencer says.

“Wait…what?” you ask, your brow furrowing.

“I know…what you said,” Spencer repeats.

As silence descends on the conversation, you whisper, “How?”

“Well, you said it yourself in the ramble that night,” Spencer picks up his hand and traces the outline of your jaw, “I believe your words were that ‘technology yields to her existence.’“

As your eyes grow wide, Spencer smiles lightly. “Y/N, how do you think we found you?”

“The cameras…” you trail off.

“The cameras were not only hooked up to survey and record, but to broadcast,” Spencer states.

Seeing your face pale, Spencer backtracks. “No, no, no. No one saw. Penelope backtracked the signal and rerouted it.”

“Bless that woman,” you sigh. “Remind me to bake her a yarn cake.”

Cocking an eyebrow at your statement, Spencer continues, “But when she heard you talking…making a confession of sorts…she routed it into our earpieces. And…I heard.”

Going silent, you bow your head. Spencer pulls you onto his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist and holding you close, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck.

“I have loved you from the moment I moved in. It may have been a different sort of love, but it has always been love nonetheless,” he mumbles into your neck.

“That’s pretty much it, you guys came barreling in not too long after he became conscious after that ramble,” you whisper into his ear, running your fingers thru his beautiful hair.

And as you sit with Spencer, rocking side to side on the couch, you come to the realization that you were going to be alright.

As long as you have Spencer, everything will be just fine.


	10. What?

Spencer was officially back at work, though not without a dozen phone calls. There were even nights where he would haul Morgan with him just so he could get home a few hours earlier. That poor man, you need to bake him a cake.

And while you found the phone calls endearing, because you couldn’t imagine how worried he was about you, especially with your ongoing therapy sessions, and your emotional state. Plus, I’m sure it made him feel as if he couldn’t protect you like he should.

But that was alright. You love him, but you were thankful for the space and the quiet that his absence provided. He never seemed to be gone more than 3 or 4 days on any given case, and it was enough for you catch your breath and recuperate before diving head-first into “protected” mode.

You had completely regained your strength, and you had started taking self-defense classes in an effort to not only become stronger, but slip a little ease into Spencer’s mind whenever he went off on cases like this.

As you sit on the couch, curled up with your book and some coffee, your phone buzzes.

Cursing Spencer talking you into getting a cell phone, you pick it up. “Hello?”

“Hey!” Spencer gleamed. “Just wanted to let you know we had landed in Detroit.”

“You could’ve just shot a text,” you said absent-mindedly.

“I know,” Spencer muses, “but I wanted to hear your voice.”

For Spencer, that was code for “I wanted to make sure you picked up the phone in case there was a psychopath in the house.”

You were worried about him. The therapy sessions have been doing you a lot of good in terms of coming to terms with things and becoming more comfortable in your house, as well as out in society. Even your nightmares were becoming more sparse. They used to be multiple times a night, and now you could put days in between them.

But Spencer was relentless.

And you were worried.

So worried, in fact, that you found yourself rooting thru his room whenever he was gone. You two still had separate rooms, even though he would sleep with you a couple of times a week. Intimacy wasn’t your forte, and Spencer isn’t one to push, so besides the couple of intimate encounters that had already traversed, nothing was…romantic.

And you were worried.

Weren’t couples supposed to do that kind of thing?

You don’t know, you’ve never been in one. And lines haven’t really been declared either way with you and Spencer. For all you know, he could be doing this with you and with another woman.

You shake your head, trying to gather your thoughts.

Oh, yes. The rooting.

You know about his history with Dilaudid, and how stressful situations can cause him to “crave.” So you found yourself looking for it every once in a while: peeking in his bag, checking his side-table drawers…things like that. And it made you feel so…dirty.

But something was wrong.

And you knew it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been almost 48 hours since Spencer had called, and while you relished in the quiet, you stomach started to turn.

Looking at your phone, you open it up.

_No missed calls._

Sighing, you flip open the phone and dial Spencer. You just wanted to make sure he was alright.

And with that assumption, your heart melted towards him a little bit.

Ring ring. Ring ring. Ring ring.

Furrowing your brow as it shoots to voice message, you hang up. Maybe they are pulling an all-nighter with this particular case, you thought.

But in the back of your gut, you knew better.

And when the nagging sensation didn’t go away, you called again.

_Ring ring. Ring ring. Ring ring._

Hand starting to tremble, you call Morgan’s phone. You knew they always roomed together, and you figured maybe they were sleeping.

“Hello?” a groggy Morgan said.

“Hey, Morgan, it’s Y/N. I’m sorry to wake you…”

“Hey,” he became clearer, “is everything alright?”

“Yes, of course, everything is fine. It’s just that Spencer hasn’t called all day, and I’m used to him calling 4 or 5 times a day, and I just wanted to make sure he was alright, and that you guys were alright with this case.”

Hearing a pause on the other end of the phone, your stomach sinks.

“Derek. Talk. Now.”

“I…uh…” he stammers.

“If you don’t talk to me, so help me god I will get in my car and drive my ass all the way t-”

“We’re home, Y/N,” Morgan says.

As your entire body freezes, you hear shuffling on the other end of the phone.

“I’m putting on clothes, I’ll be at your house in 20.”

As Morgan hangs up the phone on the other end, tears spring to your eyes.

Something is wrong…something is very, very wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tapping your fingers on the kitchen table, Morgan comes barreling through the door.

“I’ve tried his cell, nothing.”

“I know,” you said, “I’ve called 4 times.”

“I don’t understand,” Morgan sits at the table.

“When did you guys get in?” you said coolly.

“This morning. I took the long way and drove by work, and his car isn’t there. So he’s somewhere,” Morgan states.

“What are the chances-” you stop.

Hearing a knock on the door, you furrow your brow just as Penelope opens the door. “Morgan called,” she said.

As you usher for her to come in, she sits down with her computer on the table. “Alright, this is the last known location of his cell phone.” Turning the computer around, the address of a coffee shop around the corner from the office is blinking.

“Then that’s where we will start,” Morgan says.

As Morgan gets up and heads for the door, you get up behind him. Wheeling around, Morgan puts his hand up.

“No, no, no,” he says. “You’re staying here with Garcia.”

As Penelope shoots you a pitiful glance, you turn back to Morgan and take a deep breath. “Spencer came after me when I needed him the most. Doing anything less on my part is disrespectful and does not properly show just how much I love him. Something is wrong, Morgan. And when we find him, I’m going to be there to save him.”

And as Morgan sighs and takes your hand in his, he squeezes as you bow your head and whisper, “Just like he saved me.”


	11. Vegas

Landing in Las Vegas, you hail a cab. With the help of Morgan and Garcia, and some seriously creative tactics, you had found Spencer.

“Where will it be, ma’am?” the cab driver turned back and asked.

“Bennington Sanitarium, please.”

What you still couldn’t figure out was why Spencer didn’t tell you his mother was so sick.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking up to the steps of the institution, you take a deep breath. Spencer’s phone is completely shut off, so you pray that your presence will be welcomed.

Walking up the steps into the big, brick building, you see a Welcome Desk sign pointing off to your left. Following the signs, you come to a large wooden desk with a small man standing behind it.

“And who are you here to visit?” he asks kindly.

“Um…my boyfriend’s mother is here, and he is here with her, I believe,” you say, hoping he will take pity on you and let you back.

“Name?” he asked again.

“Diana Reid is the patient; Spencer Reid is the son.”

As the young man starts to type into his computer, his face slowly sinks.

“Ma’am, have you been in contact recently with the family involved?”

Furrowing your brow, you put your hand on the desk. “The man here with his mother is not just my boyfriend…he is my savior. And he has been out of contact for 48 hours now…and I will do anything it takes to get back there to see him. I know his mother has been sick. What do I need to do?” you plead as you lean on the desk to get closer to the man’s face.

“I’m so sorry,” the young man whispers.

“What has happened?” panic rises in your voice.

“Room 428. There are signs pointing to the elevator, Floor 4.”

And as the young man glances back down at his computer, you take off running for the nearest elevator sign.

“Please don’t let this be happening,” you whisper to yourself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stepping off of the elevator, you follow the room number signs.

425…426…427…

Standing in front of the door to Room 428, you slowly see the knob start to turn. As the door swings open, you brace for Spencer’s gaze, only to be met with the butt of someone coming out of the room.

Wheeling a gurney.

Holding your breath, your eyes begin to water as you see a black body-bag, zipped up, being wheeled out of the room. As they shoot you sympathetic looks and murmur their condolences, your eyes brim with tears as you slowly walk into the room they have just abandoned.

And inside the room, slumped down in a chair facing the window, is Spencer.

A disheveled, sobbing Spencer.

As you slowly walk towards him, you put your hand on his shoulder.

“I said, get the hell out,” he hisses as he spins around.

Eyes widening, he stumbles towards the wall, bracing his balance against the window banister. Tilting your head at him, tears slowly make their way down your cheeks.

“Spencer…” you trail off as you reach for his hand, which he quickly yanks away.

“What are you doing here?” he asks bluntly.

“Where else would I be at a time like this?” you say, keeping your voice steady and strong.

“I didn’t ask you to come,” he spits.

“And I didn’t ask you move-in,” you retort.

Chuckling to himself, he runs his fingers through his hair and turns himself towards the window.

“Don’t you think if I wanted you here that I would’ve said something to you?”

“No, I don’t,” you say, reaching for his arm again. Feeling your touch, he yanks his arm away, making your stomach sink even further.

“What I can’t figure out…” you pause, “…is why you didn’t tell me. That she was so sick. I could’ve helped,” you lower your voice.

“No, you couldn’t of, Y/N, and you know it,” he spins on his heels, his eyes full of anger. “You couldn’t cook your own food. Hell, you couldn’t even _feed_ yourself the food you couldn’t cook. And you expect me to open up to someone who couldn’t even _bathe_ themselves!?”

His voice was hysterical now.

“I was the _rock_ for you and for her! Bathing her and feeding her and wiping your ass and getting you in and out of bed…god, it's _pathetic_!” he spits, “And _then_ , on top of _everything_ else, you expect me to open up to you about my **mother**!? You don’t even talk about _your_ family, Y/N! It’s like they don’t _exist_ to you anymore!”

As his voice rises in hysterics, your voice gets caught in your throat. You hear him ranting and rampaging, and you know that he has to…after all, what kind of emotional toll have the past few months had on him?…but all you can feel is anger welling inside of you. But you cannot give in to it. After all, he never did.

“…and all I did was come here so I could take care of her in her last days, and then **you** show up!”

And just as his arms come back down from his flailing emotional vent, you wrap your arms around him and lock your wrists. You weren’t letting him get away, and you weren’t letting him run you off, and you sure as hell weren’t letting him deal with this on his own.

Feeling him buck and grind against you, he starts to pant, “Let..me…” and as his body drains the last bit of energy it has, you feel his knees buckle from under him as the tears pour from his face.

Collapsing onto you, he heaves his emotion from his chest, through his throat, and into the crook of your neck. Feeling him tremor made your heart shatter, and you brace your back and hold him steady, allowing him to give up the good fight and just exist.

Letting go of your wrists, you take your hand and start running your fingers through his hair.

“Shhhh…” you say close to his ear. “Shhhhh…”

And standing there, in the middle of his deceased mothers’ room, Spencer finally emerges from the ashes of his emotionally ruined soul.

After all, you were familiar with rock bottom…and it was only a matter of time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“The funeral was beautiful,” Garcia muses, putting her hand on Spencer’s arm.

“She’s at peace now,” Morgan said, trying to console his heart.

“Reid, if you need anything…” J.J. trails off.

But you knew Spencer wasn’t listening. He was standing there, watching his mother be lowered into the ground, regaling memories of his childhood and remembering her frail state in her last days.

Calmly shooing everyone to give him space, you take Hotch’s hand. “I do know something that you guys could do.”

“Anything,” they all look at you, desperately trying to find some way to contribute to Spencer’s ease of life for the next few days.

“David, I know that Spencer loves that rigatoni you cook with the eggplant. Is there anyway that that dish can be made and then frozen?”

“I can make him a few of the dishes I know he enjoys,” Rossi nods, smiling at the prospect of being able to help.

“J.J., being around Henry makes Spencer light up inside…maybe you guys could come over for a lunch or two. I’ll make sandwiches and Henry and Spencer could watch a movie or something.”

“That sounds perfect,” J.J. coos.

“Jack is also more than welcome,” you cast a glance at Hotch.

When Hotch nods, you look over at Garcia. “Penelope, I know that you knit. Do you knit graphghans?”

As her eyes start to sparkle, she says, “Just give me what you want and I can create a pattern and get to it.”

“There is a picture that Spencer has at the house of him and his mom when he was younger. If I snap a picture of it and send it to you, would it be possible-”

“Say no more,” Garcia holds up her hand to cut you off. “It shall be done.”

“Emily,” you say, beckoning Prentiss to join the conversation. “I know that these situations make you uncomfortable, but Spencer is going to shut down for a while, and eventually he is going to need a kick in the ass. Can you give that to him?”

“Why can’t you?” Prentiss asks.

“Because I think it would be better received from a friend, and not a…” you pause, trying to find the right word.

“Love bug?” Prentiss finishes, lightly wiggling her eyebrows, resulting in a light chuckle from the group.

“Exactly,” you say.

“What can I do?” Morgan asks, stepping in.

“What best friends always do in times of need,” you say, taking his hand.

“And what’s that?”

“Pack a bag and come stay,” you muse, squeezing his hand.

And with that, everyone slowly disperses with their duties. Turning back around, you notice that Spencer hasn’t shifted since you stepped aside with the group, and your heart sinks.

Walking back up beside him, you stay quiet, trying to hold back your tears as you lightly toss the daisy you’ve been holding in your hand down onto his mother’s coffin.

Swallowing hard, Spencer takes a deep breath, and you turn your head to look at him, realizing that, for the first time in an entire week, it’s the only audible sound you’ve heard come from those lips. You reach out and put your hand on his back, slowly rubbing circles in the hopes that he will talk to you, but he just continues to stare, tears dribbling down his cheeks and watering the ground beneath his feet.

Sliding your hand back down to your side, you lean in and kiss his bicep and whisper, “I’ll be waiting for you in the car, take as much time as you need.”

Turning to walk back to the car, you feel Spencer’s hand slowly embrace yours. Shuddering at the touch, fresh tears start rearing their salty heads as you turn and look up at him, realizing that his gaze has shifted from his mother’s grave to you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his breath cracking from beneath him.

Squeezing his hand, he pulls you back into his body, wrapping his arms around you. And as you stand at his mother’s grave, both of you sobbing for the loss of life and the loss of innocence, you two cling on to each other harder than you ever have, for you each understand that this is the moment of truth for you both…the moment that all couples’ eventually face.

This, you realize, is the moment where you have no other family but each other.


	12. Traveling

Two months had passed since Spencer’s mom died, and Morgan had been a huge help for the first four weeks. Spencer was practically catatonic, and you found that the roles had reversed. It was you doing the cooking and it was you doing the bathing and it was you running the errands.

And you found a new sense of appreciation and devotion for him.

As your alarm goes off to get up and make his morning coffee, you walk out of your room and see Spencer sitting at the breakfast nook, a cup of coffee in his hand, reading the only newspaper you could find that would deliver out to this address.

“Good morning,” he says, a smile playing on his lips.

“G-goo…uh…good morning, lovely,” you stammer, shuffling over and slowly easing yourself into the other side of the nook.

Staring at him, he looks above the paper at you and chuckles. Realizing he isn’t eating, you shake your head and ask, “Oh! What do you want for breakfast? There’s eggs and bacon and bread for toast.”

“What I want,” he lowers his voice, putting his hand on top of yours, “is for you to sit here, enjoy a nice cup of coffee with me, and watch as the morning sunshine starts to filter thru the window.”

Dumbfounded, you watch him as he gets up and goes over to pour you a cup of coffee. Prepping it the way you enjoy with…pumpkin spice?… **WHEN DID HE GO SHOPPING!?** …and setting it in front of you, he sits back down and smiles at you.

Looking at the steaming mug of heaven, you quickly wipe at the tears streaming down your cheeks. “Oh, how I’ve missed you so,” you whisper, still looking at your coffee.

Chuckling, he takes your hand again and squeezes. “I assume you’re not talking about the chipped coffee mug.”

Smiling, he gets up and scoots you over to sit down beside you. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he draws you close and buries his face in your hair.

“How do I do this, Y/N?” he mumbles.

Realizing he’s asking your advice on how to cope, you wrap your arms around him and pull him close.

“You…continue,” you say. “And it will hurt. And it will be an adjustment. Maybe you’ll want to call her about a book you read, or talk to her about a funny occurrence that took place, or schedule a trip to visit…” you trail off, feeling his body start to tremble with emotion.

Wrapping your arms around him, you get up and straddle his pelvis, cupping his face in your hands. “And you will hurt.”

Hearing him whimper, you kiss the tip of his nose, “Right now, it’s the first thing on your mind in the morning, and the last thing you think of before you go to bed, right?”

Watching Spencer nod, you look into his eyes, “But one morning, you will wake up…and it will be the second.”

As Spencer sighs, you brush his hair from his puffy, red eyes, “And then? The third. And after time has had its full, it will turn into certain moments, or phrases, or smells that trigger a particular memory that will remind you of your loss. And, as time always does, it will sand your jagged edges smooth, and what you struggle with now will slowly become something you struggled with in the past.”

And as Spencer wraps his arms around you, you rub his back slowly as his sighs give way to sobs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting down on the couch with a book Spencer recommended, your phone vibrates.

Made it to work.

You were so proud of him for returning. And you were thankful for the reemerging routine. It was going to help him on the days that were harder to dredge thru emotionally.

Hearing your phone repeatedly vibrate, you pick it up, not looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N.” Hearing Morgan’s voice, your stomach drops.

“Is everything alright?” you ask, panic rising in your chest.

“Oh yeah, everything’s fine, I just wanted to call and say that whatever you did to get Reid back to work, thank you. He’s been very missed and very needed.”

“Don’t thank me,” you chuckle, shaking your head, “I got up this morning to him having prepped coffee. Whatever this is, it’s all him”

“Well, it’s good to have him back,” Morgan chimes.

Sighing, you say, “Yes, yes it is.”

Hanging up the phone, you couldn’t help but worry a little. You had a feeling they would be called out on a case, and the last time that happened…well…you remember.

Hearing your phone vibrate again, you sigh, giving up on your book, and reach for your phone once again.

Seeing Spencer’s name on the caller ID, you answer it with a mockingly sultry voice.

“Hello, Dr. Reid.”

Hearing him chuckle was the most glorious of sounds during times like these. “Hello there, Miss Y/L/N. I wanted to call and let you know that we have been called out to a case.”

Not telling him that Morgan had just called, you say, “Alright, I felt you probably would have one. I’m so proud of you for returning to work, Spencer.”

Feeling him smile, he sheepishly says thank you, but you can’t help but feel his call was for a different reason.

“Spencer? Are you alright?” you ask.

“Oh yeah,” he says, “I just…”

As he trails off into his thoughts, you add, “If you aren’t ready, I’m sure Aaron would let you stay behind with Penelope and work from the office.”

“Oh, no no,” Spencer stammers. “I…um…I was going to ask you if, uh…you would like to come with the team.”

Shocked into silence, you clear your throat and find your voice. “Have you run this by Aaron?”

“Oh, it was Hotch’s idea, because of the nature of the case we are working.”

“Oh,” you say, perking up a little. “W-what’s…um…the case about?”

Hearing a light sniffle on the other end of the line, Spencer croaks, “The unsub is targeting mothers.”

And without batting an eye, you reply, “Give me 30 minutes to get there.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Running up the tarmac, Spencer eyeballs you from the plane. Seeing him smile, he jumps down the steps, running towards you with his arms open.

Running into his embrace, he buries his face in your hair, sliding his hand down your arm to find your bag to take from you.

Breathing him in, you hadn’t realized how much you missed him since just that morning. Looking up at him, you smile and say, “How are you feeling?”

“We gotta go, guys!” Hotch yells from the plane. “Lives to save and all!”

Looking over Spencer’s shoulder to Hotch, you could’ve sworn you saw him wink.

“Let’s go,” Spencer says, taking your hand and steadying you up the steep plane steps.

“Everyone buckled in?. J.J. asks.

Hearing the murmurs of approval, she disappears to tell the pilots that everyone is ready, and as you feel the plane begin to taxi on the tarmac, you hand squeezes Spencer’s.

“You ok?” he coos, rubbing your arm with his free hand and kissing the side of your head.

“Honestly?” you ask, raising your gaze to him, “I’ve never been on a plane before,” you whisper to him.

Watching a grin grace his lips, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close, and as the plane takes off from the ground, you squeeze the inside of Spencer’s thigh nervously.

“Thank you,” he whispers back, kissing the side of your head. “Thank you so much.”

“I wish I would’ve brought that book,” you muse, running your fingers across Spencer’s knuckles.

“The one I lent you this morning?” he asks.

“Yeah. I was anxious to read it. You made it sound so thrilling. But, I forgot to grab it.”

And as the plane begins its slow and stomach-churning ascent into the sky, you lean into Spencer and listen closely as he recites the book you were trying to read earlier into your ear.


	13. Release

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning of smut in this chapter.

You had been in Oklahoma for a couple of evenings now. Spencer would kiss you early in the mornings, he would call multiple times during the day to talk, but you would be asleep before he would come back to the hotel room. You would fall asleep alone, and whenever you would wake up to go to the bathroom or get a drink, there he was, with his arm wrapped around you.

You didn’t feel as if you were doing anything significant...anything that couldn’t have been done from home, but the team would message you and thank you for being here to help keep Spencer rooted in reality.

So you were glad to be of service.

But tonight was different. As you were stepping out of the shower, you wrapped a towel around yourself and walked out into the bedroom, yelping as a figure passes thru your peripheral.

Jumping into the air, you turn, eyes bulging, to see Spencer grinning at you from the bed.

“Whoa!” you put your hand over your heart, trying to catch your breath. “You scared the mess out of me,” you pant. “W-what are you doing back so early?”

“Well, we solved the case. Made the arrest a couple of hours ago.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! Congratulations! How are you feeling?”

Walking over to the bed, you sit your soaking wet body down beside him and rub his back. Giving him a weary smile, he turns to you and kisses the tip of your nose.

“I feel a lot better knowing that woman is no longer out in society.”

“Woman!?” you exclaim, raising your eyebrows. As Spencer chuckles lightly at you, he toys with the top of your towel. “The team is headed back tonight,” he says.

“Oh...” your expression falls. “Well, let me get dried off and packed back up and we can go.”

“Not so fast,” he says, grabbing your wrist as you get up from the bed. “I asked Hotch if we could spend another evening behind.”

Furrowing your brow, you turn around to him. “Why? How will we get back without the plane? I mean, we didn’t drive.”

“I believe we are old enough to rent a car, Y/N,” Spencer says sarcastically.

Smiling at Spencer, you feel your cheeks randomly flush, so you look down at your feet, not wanting Spencer to feel pressured into anything he might not be ready for. “So, I guess we’ll stay then.”

“You know, I talked to the front desk about a late check out,” he saunters off of the bed, lazily wrapping his arm around your waist. “We wouldn’t have to be out of here until 1.”

Cocking your hip, you look up at him as your damp hair cascades down your back, dripping onto his fingertips. “Oh, really? So...that means we could have a late night, huh?”

“Uh huh,” Spencer nods, playfully biting his lip. “A very, very...” taking his hands, he cups the bottom of your butt, “...very late night.”

Feeling your skin crawl with delight, you giggle as you lift yourself up onto your tip-toes. “So, a very late night, followed by a very, very late morning...Dr. Reid, I could very much get used to this.”

Seeing his smile crawl across his cheeks made your core burn. You never could deny, from the moment he rang your doorbell, how attractive he was...even in his supposed-innocence.

Feeling him drag a fingertip underneath the top of your towel, he tugs at it lightly. Loosening your grip, you let the towel fall to the ground, your naked body pressing up against Spencer’s.

“Well, this isn’t fair,” you tease, looking down at his clothes.

“Let’s even the score a little,” Spencer whispers into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

One by one, Spencer’s clothes drop to the floor...vest, shirt, belt...until his warm, inviting skin was up against yours. Pulling you into a deep, dark kiss, he moans as your tongue runs along his bottom teeth, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth as you suck on it playfully.

He digs his fingertips into your hips, pulling you closer as you both collapse onto the bed. Straddling his pelvis, you grind slowly, teasing his growing erection as you bend down and kiss a trail from under his ear to just below his collarbone. You loved to watch how his hair would stand on end at the touch of your lips. It made you feel powerful.

And you enjoyed feeling powerful.

Lightly running your fingertips down his torso, you scoot your body lower, continuing to kiss him as you journey from his lips to his hips.

Pausing just above his length, you blow ever so lightly on it, watching it jump up and down. Hearing Spencer’s breath hitch was addicting, and you did it again, just to make him jump.

“Oh, you tease,” he moans under his breath.

Smiling lightly, you lick from the bottom all the way to the tip, following along the throbbing vein protruding from his ever-growing erection. As his body shivers, you watch in delight as a drop of pre-cum oozes out of the top of his manhood.

“Please,” he begs, and you realize that you will never be able to resist a begging Spencer.

Dipping your mouth slowly over his length, you envelope him between your lips. Hearing him sigh in content, you suck, and lick, and stroke; fast and slow, forceful and light, feeling him jolt and bob underneath you...moaning with every suck and bucking with every bob. Your name slowly melts into incoherent babbles as his body trembles at your lips. Taking all of him in, you swallow, the back of your throat massaging his tip, and as he gyrates his hips, losing control of his rational mind, he grabs your hair, fucking your throat while he moans your name.

“Oh....just...oh...Y/N....please, just...gaaah!”

Hearing him lose himself in you was addicting, and as his thighs contracted with one last thrust, you rip your mouth off and clench your hand around his rockhard member before he could spill all over the bed. Hearing him groan in frustration, you chuckle lightly as you trace your fingers around on his balls. He whimpers, begging for his release, but you wanted it to be special.

You want it to be earth-shattering.

Sucking him back down into your throat, he grits his teeth, pulling at your hair with quite a force. Moaning under his control, he thrusts his hips as hard as he can, trying to work up the build that you so disastrously destroyed.

“Oh, fuck...me...Y/N...oh...fuck, yeah...”

As he grunts and moans, his body shivering with tension, he gives your mouth one last thrust, spilling his warm seed down your throat as he arches his back off of the bed, his core quivering and shaking in mid-air.

“Oh, shit!” he yells into the nighttime, a long groan leaving his lips. Collapsing back onto the bed, he tries to catch his breath, sweat dripping down his forehead. Using his hands, he draws your face to his, kissing your lips as his back collapses on the bed.

“That...that was...” he couldn’t even finish his sentence. Smiling at him, you kiss the top of his forehead. “You’re welcome,” you whisper to him. Intimacy had been nonexistent between you two for quite some time. Between your kidnapping and his mother passing, things hadn’t really been looking well for you two as a couple.

But here you were, in this hotel room, states away from your hometown, having a beautiful moment that you both had been longing for for such a great time.

And it was beautiful.

Watching his eyes start to droop, he slowly flips you over onto your back, kissing your neck.

Giggling at his attempt, you know that he is too tired and worn down to reciprocate the favor...and you didn’t care.

“Spencer...” you muse, pulling his gaze up to meet yours. “You’re exhausted. I didn’t give you that for reciprocity.”

Furrowing his brow, you continue, “I gave you that because you needed it...because times between us have been incredibly rough...because you needed the release.”

As Spencer leans his forehead into your chest, his breath hot on your erect nipples, you run your fingers thru his hair and whisper, “...because I love you.”

Feeling him smile against your breasts, he picks his head up, his eyes foggy from exhaustion, and thrusts himself up to kiss your lips. Wrapping his hand around to the back of your neck, your body melts into his as he pushes his tongue thru once again, his lips craving what his body was too tired to adventure.

Pulling back, you watch as tears rim his beautiful hazel eyes. Cupping his face in your hands, you wipe away the tear trails they create as they slide down his cheeks. Staring into each others’ eyes, neither of you dare move. You both were in your shared personal world, where no death, or unsub, or kidnapping, could occur.

Following his gaze, Spencer slowly slips off to your side, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close. Tears continue to spill from his eyes, and he chuckles lightly, raising your hand to kiss the back of it.

“I love you, too, Y/N,” he chokes out, the emotion from the past few months spilling over the top of his cup.

And as you both lay there, in that plush king-size bed, you hold each other as you cry...releasing the tension, and despair, and anger, and fear from the past few months. Clinging to each other for dear life, bodies shaking under the comforter, you cuddle as close as your bodies will physically allow as you two soak the pillow you eventually fall asleep on.


	14. The Great Unknown

Flopping down onto the bed, you and Spencer had just finished unpacking from the hotel. Being in your own bed again was nice, and it gave you a new sense of respect for Spencer’s job and the toll that it takes on not just his body, but his energy.

Wiggling under the covers, you groan lightly. “How do you do this?”

Hearing Spencer chuckle from the bathroom, he says, “It’s my passion, that’s how,” with a mouthful of toothpaste.

“I’m going to get us the nice coffee,” you drawl, “The coffee that you import. With an extra dose of caffeine for all the organ cells that I can feel dying off, one by one.”

Hearing Spencer choke, he spits and laughs hysterically. “It’s really not that bad,” he says, rinsing his mouth out with water.

“Alright, Mr. Gurgle,” you mock, rolling your eyes as you kick your shoes and socks off.

As you wiggle out of your pants, tossing them to the side, Spencer sits on the edge of the bed, slowly taking off his clothes. “You know, I’ve been thinking.”

“I know,” you say, winking at him. “You do that from time to time.”

“No seriously,” he says, a grin playing in his lips.

“What about?” you ask, furrowing your brow.

“About where my life is going…what I want from it…where I want to be in a few years.”

“That’s some heavy stuff. What brought this train of thought around?“ You knew that this was normal for a grieving process, but it usually involved much more emotion than he was exerting. When you had first come to this realization after losing your family, you cried so much that your eyes hurt to blink.

Propping yourself up on your arm, your oversized t-shirt slips down over your shoulder.

“Well, with everything that’s happened…everything we’ve endured…” he trails off, taking your free hand in his. “…it makes me wonder where I want to go from here. You were so supportive of me during one of the darkest moments of my life,” he brings your hand to his lips, kissing it gently, “and for that I owe you everything.”

“You owe me nothing,” you stress, weary about where this conversation is going.

When you had finally made your decision about what you wanted from your life, after crying for days on end, you had quickly put your plans in motion, anxious to leave the terrible emotions from that traumatic event behind you. Your bold move after grieving for your family was throwing away most of your possessions, breaking ties, and switching states.

Alone.

Swallowing nervously, you cast your eyes downward. “Spencer, if you want to, just say it.”

Furrowing his brow, he picks your gaze back up. “If I want to what, Y/N?”

“Leave. If you want to leave and explore the world, that’s fine. It’s what I did. But don’t drag it out. Just tell me that’s what you want, throw your stuff away, and go.”

As tears start to well in your eyes, realization crosses Spencer’s mind. “That’s what you did, isn’t it? When your family died?”

Watching your tears drip off of your face and stain the bed-sheet, Spencer wraps his arms around you.

“I was going to suggest that I cash in my vacation time I’ve racked up, yes. I have built up 6 months worth, and it will be tossed out at the end of this year if I don’t schedule it. But, I wasn’t going to do it alone.”

Whipping your gaze up, your eyes widen.

“I was going to ask you to come with me.”

Opening your mouth to say something, you stare at him, speechless.

“Y/N?”

“Wh-…Y-…huh?” you stutter, unable to process what he had just asked.

“I want to travel. I want to take my vacation time and see things that I have always told myself I would go see when I got some free time…places that I had always told my mother that I wanted to visit…and I want to do all of this. With you.”

As your lip quivers, Spencer places his lips lightly up against yours, willing your lip to stop twitching. Throwing your arms around his neck, you deepen the kiss, falling over onto Spencer as his back collides with the bed.

“Yes,” you whisper against his lips.

“Really?” he mumbles, pulling his face back and looking you in your eyes. “You’ll come with me?”

“Anywhere and everywhere, Spencer,” you muse, cupping his face in his hands.

And as the two of you collide, like stars on a path to destruction, you dodge and weave, intertwining your gravitational pulls, and cast off once again, side by side, into the great unknown…beautiful light trails blazing behind.


	15. Epilogue

_Ring ring ring._

“I’m hurrying as fast as I can!” you yell into the phone.

“Yikes!” Garica says, dropping her phone. “You could blow the windows out with that weapon.”

“Listen, I know you’re with Spencer…just…give me a few more minutes.”

The two of you had set out for a 6 month 17 day vacation, and you had traveled the world. You saw the tulip fields of the Netherlands, the grand cathedrals in Ireland, saw the Vienna Symphony Orchestra perform your favorite symphony by Sibelius…you even attended a rave DJ’s by none other than the popular Tiesto himself, glow-in-the-dark face paint included.

Bang bang bang.

“What!?” you shriek, wrapping a huge towel around you and shuffling towards the door. You were 45 minutes behind, and still had yet to shower.

Flinging open the door, you see Prentiss standing before you, make-up and hair accessories in hand.

“I take it Garcia didn’t call,” he muses.

Sighing, you realized that this was the purpose of her phone call. Letting Prentiss in, you pick up your phone, send her a quick “Sorry,” and tell Prentiss to drop her things wherever and give you 10 minutes.

“Hurry up!” she yells behind you.

Hopping into the shower, you fling the water on, shivering from the cold, and being to wash your hair. Feeling the water warm as it drips down your body, you sigh. You knew it was going to be a hectic morning, but you hadn’t allotted for the time you needed to give yourself to haul this extra weight.

And man, had you put on some pounds.

Stepping out of the shower, you steady yourself up against the wall, hoping you won’t slip on the slick floor. Towel drying your hair and slipping into your robe, you storm out of the bathroom to go find Prentiss.

“Emily?” you yell across the house. “You still here?”

“Yeah! Just had to pee,” she says, flushing the toilet and coming out of the bathroom. “Just sit down in that chair, and relax. This make-over comes with a free shoulder massage.”

Sighing as tears spring to your eyes, you smile with relief. “Get those tears out now,” Prentiss says, “because this make-up isn’t waterproof.”

Chuckling to yourself, you sit down in the chair and pick up your cell phone.

1 new message.

Opening your phone, you see that you have a message from Spencer. Smiling to yourself, you open it up, and see a picture of him and Morgan, making goofy faces in their bowties.

“See you soon” was all the message said.

God, I hope so.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where is she?” Spencer sighs in frustration, shifting from foot to foot. “It’s already 3:45. What if she doesn’t show?”

Spinning around to face Morgan, he takes Spencer by the shoulders and shakes him. “Dude. She just spent almost 7 months traveling the world with you. She’s gonna be here. Just…give her time. I mean, she has put on a little bit of weight as of late.”

As Spencer giggles and smiles to himself, his face flushes as he looks down. “Yeah, I suppose that’s true.”

“How are you feeling?” Morgan asks.

“About what?” Spencer replies.

“About…well…you know…” Morgan trails off.

“I don’t care about the extra weight,” Spencer glares at him. “Why would I?”

“Not that!” Morgan yelps, exasperated. “I mean, what comes with that weight.”

And as Spencer starts to open his mouth to respond, his phone dings in his pocket.

See you soon, your message says, with a close-up picture of your ever-growing cleavage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I do,” you say.

“And do you, Dr. Spencer Reid, take Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health from this day forward…”

As the magistrate’s voice fades to the background, all you can do is stare at Spencer. In his beautiful black tux with his cute black bow-tie, he looks absolutely stunning.

“…’til death do you part?” the magistrate finishes.

Smiling, with tears in his eyes, pulls you slightly closer and looks deeper into your eyes. “I do.”

As he slips your wedding ring on your finger, a little too hard for comfort, you giggle and blush with embarrassment as he cups your face and rubs his thumb over your cheek.

“I do for you both,” he whispers.

“I now pronounce you ‘Man and Wife.’ Spencer, you may kiss your bride.”

And as whoops and hollers come from the team in the small courthouse marriage room, Spencer pulls you in for a deep, wet kiss, slipping his hand to the back of your neck and pulling your waist closer to his.

“Simmer down now, pretty boy,” Morgan says, “that’s what’s gotten you into this mess in the first place.”

As Hotch slugs him in the arm, you break the kiss to shoot him a look. Spencer chuckles, bending down to kiss your stomach as you rub at a spot that’s starting to itch.

“I’m going to be riddled with stretch marks,” you sigh as Spencer takes your hand and turns you to walk down the little aisle and out of the room.

“I think you’re absolutely radiant,” Spencer says.

“Yes, well now I am. You know, until I pop out little Aiden here,” you say patting your stomach, “and my skin starts to sag and my stretch marks look like miniature radiating punctures.”

As the two of you proceed to sign your marriage certificate, Rossi pipes up and says, “I hate to ruin the festivities, but there’s a case that’s come across our desk. A missing senator boy.”

A worried look overcomes your face, and as Spencer finishes his signature he turns to you and takes you in his arms.

“We will find the little boy,” he coos into your ear.

You had become so emotional over cases lately, and while you blamed it on the hormones, the fact that you and Spencer were about to have a little boy made this case…a little too personal.

Sobbing into his chest, he pulls you back so he can kiss your tear trails away. Wiping the salty wetness from his lips, he says, “I will be home as soon as I can, and then we can celebrate.”

“Not with this massive whale in the way,” you choke out, shaking your stomach around.

“Now that’s enough,” Spencer says sternly. “What you are doing is something I will never be able to do. I will never be able to grow another human being in my body, and then continue on with life as it should. You are the strongest person I know, and you are giving me the greatest gift I could have ever imagined. And those stretch marks? That loose skin? Those are like lines on a page, writing the story of your life before someone’s eyes. And from now, until the day you die, I will read every single line of prose on your body before I go to bed at night, as well as anticipate every new line to come.”

And as you throw your arms around his neck, drawing his close for another kiss, the world fades into the background once again, with nothing but the feel of Spencer’s lips on yours and the kicking of little Aiden against you to root you to the ground.


End file.
